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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25451935">Slowly, then all at once</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist'>Frumpologist</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Auror Draco Malfoy, Developing Relationship, F/M, Healer Hermione Granger, Memory Loss, Past Relationship(s), Post-Hogwarts, Sexual Content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:08:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25451935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frumpologist/pseuds/Frumpologist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione begins her training at St. Mungo’s the summer after her eighth year. She’s excited to put the past behind her—that is, until Draco Malfoy turns up in her ward and she’s forced to relive the past, if only so he can remember it. Title of the story is inspired by a line in <i>The Fault in Our Stars</i> by John Green.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>471</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>2020 Sounds Like Dramione</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            Anonymous in the <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/2020SoundsLikeDramione">2020SoundsLikeDramione</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me but are the property of J.K.R. and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. The prompt for my story was:</p><p>"There's been times, I'm so confused<br/>All my roads, They lead to you<br/>I just can't turn and walk away<br/>It's hard to say what it is I see in you<br/>Wonder if I'll always be with you<br/>But words can't say, And I can't do<br/>Enough to prove,<br/>It's all for you"<br/>All For You - Sister Hazel</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <b><em>June 1999</em> </b>
</p><p>Saying goodbye felt good.</p><p>Hermione’s shoulders, typically so tense and knotted from the stress of marks and homework, relaxed as she brought a goblet of elfish wine to her lips. Scanning the crowd, all decorated in various house colors, she watched her friends—and those who’d surprisingly become acquaintances—as they mingled and enjoyed their last night at Hogwarts. Whisky, butterbeer and some sort of pixie dust-enhanced wine passed from person to person, and as the night went on, many of her housemates coupled up or went to bed, eagerly awaiting the next chapter of their lives.</p><p>In two weeks time, Hermione would be in France on a mini-holiday with her parents, and then she was off to St. Mungo’s as a trainee healer. One day, she’d be the top healer for magical beings, but for now, she was content simply to learn and enjoy the adventure. The past year had taught her that life rarely progressed in the straight line she’d always imagined, and there were surprises around every corner. This was in evidence right at that moment, for instance, as Draco Malfoy slid onto the crimson sofa beside her as if they were old, familiar friends.</p><p>Tipping the lip of his bottle in her direction, a teasing smile curled around the corner of Draco’s lips. “Lovely to see you without a stick up your arse, Granger.”</p><p>“How ever did you manage to loosen Astoria’s hold long enough to join us, Malfoy?” Hermione raised her brows, her own smile lifting as she sipped from her goblet.</p><p>A shadow passed through his eyes, causing her stomach to flip. “Weasley seems rather taken with Pansy—that doesn’t bother you?”</p><p>She shrugged. “Why would it?”</p><p>A long beat of silence sat heavily between them until Draco set his drink down on the nearest table and stood up in one, fluid movement. Hermione took a moment to run her eyes over him, from his loosely knotted tie to the way his sleeves were bunched up around his elbows; he seemed so casual, different to how she’d normally seen him in classes. But some things never changed: the blond hair hanging over his ears, his impeccable posture, and his razor sharp gaze snagging on hers. Merlin, before her eighth year, he’d never been an attractive wizard to her, but this year had changed their dynamic and, indeed, her opinion of Draco dramatically.</p><p>He smiled down at her and held out a hand—the emerald in his signet ring caught her eye. Still so obliged to his family, clearly, but not quite the boy she’d known before the war.</p><p>Hermione took his hand, rose to her feet and chewed on the corner of her lip as he dragged her away from the party and through the door that opened into a dimly lit corridor. “Where are we—”</p><p>Draco’s mouth was on hers as he pressed her back against the cold stone wall. Fingers traced her every curve before resting at her throat and caressing the sensitive skin just beneath her jaw. His tongue swept inside her mouth, eliciting a desperate moan from the back of her throat. Kissing Draco Malfoy was always a surprise, no matter how often they’d found themselves panting in abandoned closets the past few months. Something about the way he touched her lit a fire in her soul; he made her feel alive in a way she’d never known before.</p><p>“Can we find a bed?” Lips traveled down her jaw, placing open-mouthed kisses where her pulse raced and her skin flushed. “One last time before we go to the Platform tomorrow?”</p><p>“We agreed no more after last night,” Hermione’s voice was husky, and she wasn’t entirely sure why she was arguing; it always went this way. They’d say it was the last time, but they always found themselves in bed with one another soon after.</p><p>“That never stopped us before,” he said, tilting his hips into hers and teasing her with his growing erection. “Come on, Granger. It might be the last time we see each other and there are some things I’d like to try doing with that delicious little body of yours.”</p><p>She twined their fingers together and led Draco down the corridor to an abandoned classroom, knowing that, in just twenty-four hours’ time, they’d likely never see one another again.</p><p><br/>She’d have to make tonight count.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>July 1999</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>Parisian summer nights were perfect.</p><p>Hermione sat with her legs crossed, sipping a delicious Santenay Rouge and enjoying the spicy berry taste as she watched the nightlife roar around the outdoor courtyard of a local bar. It was the last day of her holiday before the beginning of her training with St. Mungo’s, and her parents had left that morning for an extended trip to Tunisia, leaving Hermione alone on her final night abroad. Or, rather, she <em> assumed </em> she’d be alone; that was, until a certain tall, handsome face from her past slid into a seat beside her with a long-stemmed glass of dark, red wine.</p><p>“Granger.” Draco Malfoy tipped his chin in greeting, his eyes sparkling as they flickered over her stunned face. “Fancy seeing you in Paris, of all places.”</p><p>Hermione clamped her lips closed and narrowed her eyes as they traveled over his long, relaxed body, silently approving of the tight, grey trousers, the form-fitting shirt, and light stubble lining his sharp jaw. She raised her wine glass in salute and took a sip. “Malfoy,” she said in her best perfunctory tone. “Wandering so far from your chateau, and among the densest population of Muggles in France; one might think you were looking for me.”</p><p>A feral-looking smile inched slowly up his face. He leaned closer to her, wine forgotten on the table. “And if I was?”</p><p>The balmy heat of Paris was stifling when combined with the heat radiating from Draco’s body, and caused a crimson flush to crawl up her chest. Despite the fire he seemed to ignite between them, Hermione’s bare arms broke out in goosebumps. A hand rested on her knee where her summer dress had ridden up and exposed her thigh. He was impossibly close, breath fanning against her cheek as she turned her face to capture his gaze.</p><p>“If you <em> were </em> following me,” she said slowly, enunciating each syllable to buy herself time to settle her tumultuous insides, “I’d say it’s a good job you found me. I was just about to leave.”</p><p>That familiar dark shadow passed through his silver stare and Hermione repressed a shiver. “Were you now? Fancy that—I nearly gave up finding you, and here we are.”</p><p>“Here we are,” she echoed, eyes dipping to the bow of his lips as they moved closer to hers. “I should then… leave, that is.”</p><p>“<em> We </em> should.” Draco’s hand slid from her knee to mid-thigh, the silkiness of his fingers sending heat to pool in her abdomen. Breath hot in her ear, he whispered as his fingers found the edge of her knickers, “Come back to mine.”</p><p>Caressing Hermione’s cheek with the tip of his nose, Draco languidly drew a line with it from her ear to her lips. Hovering, seemingly waiting for her consent, which she was eager to give as she closed the gap and felt the satiny pillow of his bottom lip envelop hers. She pulled back slightly and snapped her eyes to his. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”</p><p>“I’ve heard that before.” A husky laugh followed his words and his fingers tightened over her thigh. “Usually preceding a loud—quite wild—orgasm.”</p><p>She remembered. Hot, desperate sex at Hogwarts. The fear of being caught, the heightened arousal as voices carried and feet scurried past their hiding place. Draco’s hand over her mouth to hush her cries as he drove into her from behind. Tingles shot straight to her core and she groaned, exasperated by her lack of willpower when it came to Draco Malfoy.</p><p>“There’s an Apparation Point around the corner.” Hermione placed her hand over the top of his before it could delve into her knickers. “The last time, Draco—I mean it this time.”</p><p>“The last time,” he agreed, curling his fingers around hers.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> <b> <em>August 1999</em> </b></p><p> </p><p>The most frustrating aspect of training to be a healer was the waiting.</p><p>Hermione waited constantly. For orders, for patients, for more information, for healing, for death. There wasn’t a moment during her first two weeks at St. Mungo’s that she wasn’t waiting for <em> something </em>and it was maddening.</p><p>On a boring Monday morning, Hermione followed Healer Strout into the Janus Thickey Ward and used a charmed, floating quill to record the patient updates on a hovering piece of parchment paper. Strout, a middle-aged woman with a severe bun and thick hips, moved quickly between the beds, checking vitals and reciting them for Hermione to copy. She was a great instructor who paused frequently to ask Hermione questions, to gauge her understanding, and to ensure that, despite the fast pace and constant stream of information, Hermione was learning whilst they cared for each patient.</p><p>Overall, she loved her work at St. Mungo’s already, and had a preference for the Janus Thickey Ward and permanent injury. It presented a challenge, and Hermione often found herself daydreaming over finding cures for ails that landed witches and wizards in long-term care. As they moved to check vitals for Frank and Alice Longbottom, a knot formed in Hermione’s throat and tears sprang to her eyes.</p><p>“You’re friends with their son, is that right?” Healer Strout’s strict face softened around the eyes as she assessed Hermione with a flick of her gaze. “I’m afraid to say that there’s nothing for them now. The least we can do is keep them comfortable.”</p><p>Her voice trembled only slightly as the quill she controlled with her magic wavered. “I understand. It’s just…is anyone actively seeking a cure for their injuries?”</p><p>Silence followed, so heavy Hermione thought she’d be told off for her bold question, but then Healer Strout sighed and tucked a thick bed sheet under Alice’s chin. “Their wounds are deep, and in areas of the brain where no healer has accessed invasively before. I understand you want to help your friend, but it would do more harm than good to get his hopes up. Do you understand?”</p><p>“Yes, I understand.” While Hermione nodded her head, a vague image of reuniting Neville with his cured parents flitted through her mind. She understood perfectly that the older staff lacked the imagination necessary to cure ailments which landed magical beings in the long-term ward. It was one of many things on her long list of changes she would seek to make after receiving her healer license.</p><p>Just as Hermione and Healer Strout moved onward to the bed she was dreading—his beautiful, straw-colored hair and wide, child-like eyes watching their approach—a shimmering orb zoomed through the ward and came to an abrupt stop in front of them. The familiar voice of Augustus Pye, gravelly and friendly, spoke from the orb.</p><p>“<em> Healer Strout, you’re needed in the Dai Llewellyn Ward urgently. Healer Strout, you’re needed in the Dai Llewellyn Ward urgently.” </em></p><p>The orb vanished from sight and it took only a moment for the pair to rush from one ward to the other; their heavy breaths the only sound between them.</p><p>When they arrived in the Dai Llewellyn Ward, Hermione froze. Lying in the nearest bed, paler than she’d ever seen him, sweaty and shaking, was Draco Malfoy. He groaned as his hand wound around his stomach, body lurching as he heaved into a bedside bucket.</p><p>Strout was all business as she approached, hand outstretched to begin assessing her patient. “Trainee Granger, come, come—an excellent learning experience we have here. What’s happened, Healer Pye? Doxie poisoning, by the looks of it.”</p><p>“Oh yes, yes,” Pye answered with excitement dancing through his words. “Nasty bit of poisoning, if I do say so myself. The poor boy hasn’t been able to stop vomiting since he was brought in. And his pallor has only grown paler the longer he lies there. Won’t tell us anything, though. Just keeps gasping and mumbling about ‘bloody bastards.’”</p><p>“Aye, they are. Nasty little creatures, doxies.” Strout began prodding Draco with her wand. Various spells indicated several things: dehydration, low blood pressure, stomach cramps, and a puncture wound on his right buttock. The healer tsked, swiping away the smokey diagnostics. “Pureblood, too. You’d think he’d know the dangers of approaching doxies.”</p><p>Hermione stared, transfixed at the way Draco’s body convulsed as he vomited. “Draco?” she whispered, reaching for his hand before having it swatted away as he recoiled from her touch. “What happened to you? You know better than to get close to doxies.”</p><p>Draco panted, clutching a hand around the basin he was being sick in. “Bloody Auror boot camp,” he hissed as if every word was painful. “They put the doxies in my bunk.”</p><p>Gasping, Hermione covered her mouth with her fingers. “Someone did this to you on purpose? Who would do this?”</p><p>His words were drowned out by the sound of his retching, but it sounded a lot like “no fucking clue.”</p><p>“What do we do?” Hermione turned towards her mentor, panic clawing at her throat as she watched Draco’s body twitch. “He’s… he’s not going to <em> die </em>, is he?”</p><p>A strangled noise left Draco’s throat as Strout answered. “He’ll be just fine. We’ve got an antidote for doxy venom, and Mister Malfoy should be on his way once we’re able to get him hydrated again.”</p><p>Relief flooded Hermione, her shoulders loosening and breath slowing. Draco, on the other hand, only seemed more agitated. “Get the bloody antidote then!”</p><p>Strout summoned a small vial filled with deep purple liquid and held it out to Draco. “You must drink it all. The trick is keeping it all down. Foul tasting, but should work immediately if you don’t vomit it back up.” As Draco drank—and pulled a deeply disgusted face—Strout turned to Hermione with a small smile. “I trust you can start his hydration spells. The Aurors will want him back post haste and I’d like to continue with my evaluations. You can catch up when he’s discharged.”</p><p>Something to do, all on her own! It filled Hermione’s chest with pride to know that Healer Strout believed her capable of performing healing magic so soon and all on her own. Hermione nodded eagerly. “Oh yes, Healer Strout, no problem at all. I’ll have Mister Malfoy hydrated and on his way in no time.”</p><p>“I trust you’ll do well.” Strout turned to leave, but before exiting the room she called back to Hermione. “Do ensure you get his wound clean before you release him. Infection is the number one complication from doxy poisoning, after all.”</p><p>And then they were left alone, with Healer Pye back in his office and Healer Strout on her way back to the Janus Thickey Ward. The color was returning to Draco’s face and he’d stopped vomiting, even having the presence of mind to vanish the sick from his bedside basin. Hermione pulled her wand from a loop in her healer robes and began to cast the charms needed to hydrate Draco.</p><p>“Being a healer suits you, Granger.” Draco’s voice was strained, but he appeared much healthier with that teasing smile on his face. “Wouldn’t mind having you nurse me back to health any time.”</p><p>She laughed, shaking her head as she checked his hydration levels. “You’ve made friends with the Auror trainees, I see. Can’t say I’m surprised to find you here after only a fortnight of training.”</p><p>Draco rested back against the bed and placed his hands behind his head as he crossed his ankles. “Apparently, I’ve a lot to make up for—past transgressions and all that rubbish. I bet it was that prat Zacharias Smith; he’s been a complete arse since training started.”</p><p>“But he’s a Hufflepuff,” Hermione said, the disbelief clear in her tone. “He wouldn’t do such a thing. Are you sure it wasn’t Harry or Ron? They, er…never liked you very much.”</p><p>Draco’s sodden, pale hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head. “Potter’s the one who transported me here. Swore the whole time, apologized for whoever did it. Weasley—well, he’s got the hots for Pansy, so I don’t think he’d lay a finger on her best mate. It’s got to be that Smith fellow.”</p><p>Hermione offered a noncommittal hum, not entirely convinced of Zacharias’ guilt. Surely it was someone else? A few moments of silence passed in which Hermione watched Draco’s blood pressure rise and his hydration improve. There was only one thing left and heat pooled in her cheeks as she realized what it was she’d have to do.</p><p>Biting into her lip, Hermione avoided eye contact as she mumbled. “I’m going to need to see the bite.”</p><p>“I forgot how much I love it when you blush.” His lips twitched and, if her flaming cheeks were anything to go by, she turned redder still. “You’ve looked at my arse before. Bit it once yourself, if I recall.”</p><p>“I did not!” Hermione laughed, but at the arch of Draco’s eyebrow, she faltered. “Okay, maybe a little bit. It’s a nice arse, alright.”</p><p>“Damn right it is,” Draco said, a genuine smile slipping across his cheeks as he pushed himself onto his side to allow Hermione access to said nice arse. “Fucking hurts, so don’t try to bite it now.”</p><p>Rolling her eyes even though he couldn’t see her face, Hermione reached out and tugged his trousers and boxers down, revealing an angry red puncture at the top of his right buttock. “Merlin, this is bad. Was it an adult doxy?”</p><p>“Yes—ouch, fuck, Granger that hurts.” Draco grunted as Hermione prodded her wand around the wound.</p><p>“Sorry.” She siphoned the poison from the bite mark, watching intently as the wound changed from crimson to yellow. Pulling his trousers up again, Hermione put space between them and busied herself with logging his care for hospital records. “There; your arse is back to its former glory. I’ll leave you with some healing paste to apply and you should be good to go once the hydration charm is finished. About an hour.”</p><p>“Brilliant. Thanks.” She turned from him, ready to pursue Healer Strout and complete another day’s training in the Janus Thickey Ward, when Draco’s hand closed around her wrist. “I think I might need to be nursed back to health a little more,” he whispered, his hard chest pressed firmly against her back. His fingers traveled her curves slowly and Hermione melted back against him. “Care to assist, Granger?”</p><p>“Draco…” Sighing, Hermione turned to face him. “This can’t happen again—as good as it was, we—” Draco stepped towards her, hands moving to her hips, but she took a step backwards and put her hand to his chest. “It won’t work between us, Draco. We both have to focus on our training, you have a family obligation to marry a Pureblood witch, and we’re too young to get caught up in something so serious. We can’t keep—”</p><p>His hand held hers firmly over his chest, eyes flickering over her face before finally settling on her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be serious,” he said, drawing closer again, making it impossible for Hermione to clear her mind from his heady presence. “A little sex between friends. Stress relief.”</p><p>“We’re not friends.”</p><p>“We are, actually.”</p><p>She closed her eyes, willing herself to walk away. “Draco…”</p><p>“Granger.” His lips hovered over her mouth, feet planted on either side of hers. “One more time, at least.”</p><p>Slipping her hand from beneath his, Hermione found the strength to pull away. Only just. “You’ll be fine to leave in an hour. I’ll see you around, Draco.”</p><p>As her heels clicked on the stone floor, she heard the smile in Draco’s voice as he said, “See you around, Granger.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b> <em>September 1999</em> </b>
</p><p> </p><p>There just wasn’t enough time in the day.</p><p>When Hermione wasn’t pulling an eighteen hour shift at St. Mungo’s, she was researching incurable, magical maladies. It stole her every free moment, the obsessive need to cure the hopeless.</p><p>She was halfway through a research session on the fifth floor of the hospital, eyes bruised and bloodshot, as she flipped through page after page of heavy, leather bound tomes. Her shift would start in less than an hour which gave her little time to eat and change into her proper robes. Thank Merlin for charms to pin back her hair, which alone could easily take a quarter of an hour.</p><p>As she closed up the books and tidied her workspace, a pink, shimmering orb zoomed into the stacks and halted just shy of her face.</p><p>
  <em> “Trainee Granger to the Janus Thickey Ward. Trainee Granger to the Janus Thickey Ward.” </em>
</p><p>Hermione jumped and rushed from the fifth floor, into the lift, and down to the fourth floor, which housed the Janus Thickey Ward. She applied a simple cleaning spell to her day-old robes, tossed her hair back into a messy bun, and hoped the lunch trolley would arrive early today. When she stumbled through the double doors, bursting through them loudly and out of breath, Hermione found Healer Strout standing with perfect posture by a bed, in which lay a prone body with familiar platinum hair and Trainee Auror robes.</p><p>“Draco?” Hermione took long, fast steps to his bedside. “What happened? Is he alright?”</p><p>“Mister Malfoy seems to have been on the bad end of an unknown spell,” Healer Strout said, tutting as she ran diagnostics over the unconscious body. “Trainee Auror Potter arrived here with him not half an hour ago. His body appears fine; it’s the mind that’s showing cause for concern.”</p><p>“His mind?” Hermione watched the smokey diagnostics twist and tangle around themselves as they floated over Draco’s head. Instinctively, she whipped her head around, looking for Harry so he could explain exactly what happened; he was nowhere to be found. “Where’s Harry? Did no one stay with Draco?”</p><p>Healer Strout sighed, placing both hands on her hips before addressing Hermione. Her lips pursed and a notch formed between her brows. “Mister Potter was required to attend interrogation regarding Mister Malfoy’s condition. But our focus isn’t on the Aurors and their job, Trainee Granger. What can you tell me about the diagnostics over Mister Malfoy’s brain?”</p><p>“They’re incomplete,” she whispered, pointing to a large hole appearing in his hippocampus. Outlining the gaping area with her finger, Hermione’s breath caught as the realization dawned on her. “The blue lights, those are the areas of his brain that are unaffected, but the portion that’s damaged, that’s the hippocampus. It means…”</p><p>She trailed off, sliding her eyes down to Draco’s face. He appeared peaceful, his eyelashes dusting his cheekbones, his lips barely open as breath left him in steady, even beats.</p><p>“It means the curse that hit Mister Malfoy has affected his memories,” Healer Strout supplemented Hermione's silence. She swished her wand, removing the smokey diagnostics of Draco’s brain from the air, and turned to Hermione. “Without knowing the exact spell used, there’s little hope of restoring the memories, even if Mister Malfoy awakes we may never know the extent of the long term damage he’ll face.”</p><p>“I’m sorry—<em> if </em> he awakes?” Dread settled like a heavy weight in her stomach; her eyes were wide, shoulders strict, as fear coursed the length of her spine and sent chills cascading along her nerves. Their previous interaction couldn’t be the <em> last. </em> “He’s got to wake up—he <em> will </em> wake up,” she demanded, more to Draco than to her mentor.</p><p>“Yes, well, there’s not much we can do for him until then.” It was as if Strout didn’t realize how personal this particular case was to Hermione. Her tone was nearly one of boredom. “You’ll monitor him closely and if he wakes up, alert me at once.”</p><p>Hermione stared at her, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her tone in check. “But—can’t I just add an alarm charm to his bedside, so when he wakes up we’ll both know?”</p><p>“<em> If </em> he awakes, someone will need to be at his side. It won’t be pretty.” Healer Strout gestured towards Gilderoy Lockhart at the far corner of the ward. “Believe me, I’ve seen the horrors of memory magic, and being left alone will do far more damage to him, I’m afraid.”</p><p>Strout left Hermione alone with Draco and her spiraling thoughts.</p><p>It wasn’t possible; Draco had just been starting afresh, with a new lease on life—this couldn’t be the end for him, surely. The amends he’d been making were hard, some of the apologies themselves traumatic, and his decision to dedicate his life to catching Dark Wizards was only one of the many forms of penance he’d offered. Hermione was furious on his behalf, furious that everything he’d done could be destroyed—for what? And by whom? Perhaps Draco had been right about the doxy bite; one of his partners at the Academy may have done this. She’d have to speak with Harry as soon as she could get away from the ward long enough to send an owl.</p><p>Hermione sat at his bedside for hours. Every so often, she’d perform a diagnostic to check if anything had changed. It hadn’t. Night settled over the hospital, torchlight being the only source of light once the sun had set. And still, Hermione stayed with Draco. Once, she’d reached for his hand only to let it go upon remembering the last conversation they’d had, when she’d turned him away rather than enjoy one more night with him.</p><p>She spent the night second guessing herself. The last thing she’d said to him was that she’d ‘see him around’. Draco had touched her so intimately just before those words, and now she might never know that touch again. She hadn’t ever dreamed she would, but that had been her choice before—now, it was as if something had <em> stolen </em> that possibility from her and it caused an ache deep in her chest.</p><p>It had been nearly forty-eight hours since she’d last slept when the sun rose again and filled the ward with its buttery light. Hermione yawned, placing a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise, and then began checking Draco’s vitals and diagnostics for any change. As she waved her wand over his face to cast the spell, long, slender fingers curled around her wrist and she snapped her eyes to Draco’s face.</p><p>He stared back at her, his expression blank for only a moment before it morphed into a sneer. “What are you doing?”</p><p>A breath of relief poured from Hermione’s lungs and she grinned so wide it hurt the back of her head where her hair was pinned in a messy knot. “Oh, thank Merlin, you’re awake!”</p><p>Draco blinked slowly, shoving her hand away and removing his grip slowly from around her wrist. “Clever, Granger. Was it my open eyes that gave me away, or perhaps you spend every night standing over my bed as I sleep, like a proper stalker?”</p><p>“What?” Hermione laughed, waving her wand over his face but unable to cast the charm before Draco swatted the tip of it away. “Of course I don’t stand over your bed every night. Except last night, but that’s because—”</p><p>“Tell me, then,” he interrupted her, snarling around each syllable. “How have you managed to get past the entrance? It’s my understanding that only the Heads can access all of the dorms, and Perfect Prissy Hermione Granger wasn’t made Head Girl this year, was she?”</p><p>“Draco, what—” It dawned on Hermione then, the pieces clicking into place. “You think we’re at Hogwarts for NEWTs?”</p><p>“I’m hardly here for the pleasant company, am I?” Rolling his eyes, Draco pushed himself up to rest on his elbows. “If you’re not going to make yourself useful in my bed, I’d ask you to leave. Slytherin play Gryffindor today and I’d rather not miss Weaslebee falling off his broom.”</p><p>Slytherin and Gryffindor’s only match of their eighth year had been early in the year. Hermione’s eyes grew round as she stared down at Draco. “Draco, what’s the date today?”</p><p>“Is that what you’re here for?” He laughed, but no humor decorated the sound. In fact, he was downright mocking. “Merlin, and here I was thinking you’d have one of those ridiculous bedside calendars with fluffy cats on it that would tell you the date. Bet you wake up every morning checking off another <em> beautiful </em> day.”</p><p>Her cheeks flushed; of course she had a calendar, but it wasn’t of <em> cats </em> , it was of kneazles. And she checked off each day, but that was just common sense. “I’m not here to ask you what day it is, but I do need to know what day you <em> think </em> it is.”</p><p>“Sunday, the eighteenth,” he said, tone filled with annoyance and a sharp sigh. “Please leave now, as I don’t wear clothes to bed and would prefer you not see me naked.”</p><p>“It’s actually Tuesday, the tenth. Of September.” Hermione informed him carefully, monitoring his face for its predictable confusion. His brows knitted together and lips tugged down. “Nineteen ninety nine.”</p><p>“It’s <em> what </em>?” Incredulous, as if he thought her mad, Draco whipped his head around. His eyes widened as he took in his surroundings. He moved quickly, clambering to get out of the bed, but Hermione gently pushed him back down as he struggled against her. “What are you playing at, Granger? Think you’re having a laugh? Change my room back and get the fuck out.”</p><p>Hermione knew she ought to send a message to Healer Strout, but she tried to placate Draco first as he looked as if he were going to bolt from the bed at any second. “I can’t do that,” she said soothingly, about to reach for him but thinking better of it. “You’ve had a bit of a—an accident, I’m afraid. You’re in the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo’s Hospital. It’s September the tenth, of ninety nine. You’re a trainee at the Auror Academy, the boot camp program and—”</p><p>Draco’s laugh echoed through the ward, causing other patients within it to join in. Gilderoy Lockhart chuckled and even from a distance Hermione heard him mumble about a good-natured crowd of admirers. As the laughter faded, Draco’s gaze found hers; he was livid, skin pulled tight at the corners of his eyes and his lips in a pale, thin line. “Think you’re witty, do you? No doubt this is some elaborate Gryffindor prank. Let’s all fuck with Malfoy and make him believe he’s lost his mind. Give it a rest, Granger, and go back to reading <em> A History of Magic </em> for the twelfth time.”</p><p>“I’m not joking.” Hermione pulled the chair she’d been sitting in all night closer to Draco’s bed and perched herself on it. “We finished our NEWTs at the end of June and then we saw one another in Paris not too long afterwards. You don’t remember any of that?”</p><p>Raking a hand through his hair, Draco let a deep breath out through his lips. He shook his head and averted his gaze down to where his legs were covered by a thick, plain hospital sheet. “I’m in hospital and, what, I have no memory of the last—year—of my life?”</p><p>Hermione bit her bottom lip, closed her eyes and forced the words out. “It appears so. Would you allow me to ask you some questions to assess your memory?”</p><p>Waving her on, Draco rested back against the bed and squeezed his eyes shut. “Get on with it then.”</p><p>“Okay.” Hermione summoned her parchment and enchanted quill, charming it to take notes as she assessed him. “What is your full name?”</p><p>His eyes snapped open, and the look he gave her was absolute annoyance. “Draco Lucius Malfoy.”</p><p>“Very good. And what’s the last thing you remember before waking up?”</p><p>“Blaise invited Loony Lovegood to the common room, and she brought some sort of pixie dust-enhanced wine.” His body shuddered, lips tugging down before he continued. “I must have had too much to drink, because the next thing I remember is waking up to your face—and that ridiculous hair—hovering over me.”</p><p>Hermione snorted; she knew how he really felt about her hair. Draco loved to tangle his fingers in the roots, loved to tug at the curls whilst he begged her to scratch her nails down his back. Trying to stifle the inappropriate thoughts, Hermione cleared her throat. “Right. And you remember nothing about...abandoned broom closets or warm Paris nights?”</p><p>His eyebrows shot up. “Are you propositioning me, Granger? Have to say, I have a bit of a hangover, but give me some time and—”</p><p>“I’m <em>not</em> propositioning you.” Leaning forward, she ran her eyes down the length of him. “Are you in any pain?”</p><p>“Yes,” he said, entirely deadpan.</p><p>She jumped up, wand drawn. “Where?”</p><p>“Everywhere, because you won’t stop bloody talking.” Draco flung his head back onto the pillows and squeezed his eyes shut. Hermione clicked her tongue against her cheek and settled back against her chair again.</p><p>He was such a twat.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It only got worse.</p><p>Healer Strout was livid that Hermione had waited over an hour before alerting her to Draco returning to consciousness. She sent Hermione home to sleep, because clearly the lack of sleep had caused her to become careless. It was a fitful sleep and when she returned to St. Mungo’s, she felt worse than when she’d left. So many thoughts plagued her; the fact that Draco couldn’t remember the best of himself, that he had no recollection of their trysts or their fondness for one another, hurt on a level Hermione wouldn’t ever have expected.</p><p>When she entered the ward, Draco was sitting in his bed reading <em> Witch Weekly </em>and flipping through the pages as if he wasn’t taking in any information at all.</p><p>“These are all old issues with <em> his </em> face on the cover,” he said, tossing the magazine to the side as she approached. “Annoying, too. Offered to autograph it for me for five galleons.”</p><p>Hermione chuckled, tucking a flyaway curl behind her ear as she sat down at his bedside. “Lockhart is harmless. A little egotistical, but nothing more than irritating over long periods of time.”</p><p>“You still fancy him, don’t you?” His voice was teasing, a far cry from the snarl it had been. She shook her head, but he continued on. “I remember in second year, all the girls were falling over themselves to talk to him.”</p><p>“It was only a crush,” Hermione said, cheeks heating up under his gaze. “Besides, don’t think that the girls didn’t watch how all the boys fawned over the Beauxbaton girls in fourth year.”</p><p>“They were fit.” Draco smiled fondly, gazing off to some far off place Hermione couldn’t see. She smacked him on the thigh with her hand, but he caught it as she pulled away. “You were fit that year, too. At the Yule Ball, with that dress. I nearly hexed Krum that night.”</p><p>She remembered Draco telling her the story once before, locked in a broom closet at Hogwarts just after the Christmas holiday. It was heartwarming then, and had led to their first kiss and, eventually, to their first night together. The blush at her cheeks deepened and she looked down to stare at their joined hands.</p><p>“I’ve told you this before, haven’t I?” Draco asked, tugging on her hand and pulling her attention back to him. “What happened the last time I told you about the night of the Yule Ball?”</p><p>Unwittingly, tears sprang to her eyes; it was ridiculous, to feel pain over Draco not remembering the night that he’d held her face gently in his hand and pressed his lips to hers so tentatively. Shaking her head, Hermione sniffed back her tears and tried to yank her hand from his. He didn’t let go.</p><p>“Granger.” That hushed tone that had coaxed her so long ago busted the dam of her emotions, and stray tears leaked from her eyes. “Fuck. Did I—I didn’t—whatever I did, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I vowed to ignore you during our last year.”</p><p>“You didn’t.” Hermione’s throat was raw, and she swallowed around a dry knot. “You didn’t hurt me. But I don’t think now’s a good time to get into our...past.”</p><p>“<em>Our </em> past.” He finally dropped her hand, smacking his fist against his thigh. “Can’t even remember <em> my </em> bloody past. Strout found little flashes of things, but nothing concrete. Your face shows up sometimes, but I can’t...reach it.”</p><p>Perhaps the memories weren’t strong enough. Or, maybe he wouldn’t want to remember them anyway. Whatever the block was, if he could remember some things but not the times they’d shared, then Hermione wasn’t sure what that meant.</p><p>“It’s fine,” she assured him, steadying her voice as she spoke. “We weren’t friends. Of course you wouldn’t remember me. What have you remembered, then?”</p><p>He spent an hour detailing the flashes of memories he had of their last year and even the doxy bite he’d suffered at the Academy. But whenever he came close to a night they shared, it was blank. Throughout the morning, they developed a slow sort of friendship; when he spoke, Hermione listened, and when she recounted some of her favorite memories of the year, he didn’t take his eyes off her.</p><p>“If I don’t take your vitals soon, Healer Strout will have my head,” she said after they’d fallen into a comfortable silence with one another. “She’s put me on your detail while you’re here. You’re my sole focus since they think I’ll be able to help you remember, because we know one another.” A laugh gusted from her lungs. “I think they misunderstood—she thinks we’re friends.”</p><p>“We’re not friends, though,” Draco said, although it was more of a question than a statement. “You said we aren’t friends.”</p><p>“Right.” She nodded her head, stood from her seat and cast a charm over Draco, poking and prodding the smokey diagnostic. Pleased to see that the once large hole was decorated in spots of blue, indicating that memories were returning, Hermione smiled and continued to check over the rest of him. “Everything looks really good, better than how you came to us. Are you feeling any pain?”</p><p>“None.” Draco scooted himself to the edge of his bed and swung his legs over the side. “Take me for a walk around this place, would you? I’m tired of looking at these walls and <em> his </em> face.”</p><p>Hermione chuckled, and transfigured gauze into a pair of slippers for Draco to slip his feet into. “Promise you won’t go running off at the first sign of a Floo?”</p><p>Pushing himself from the bed, Draco stretched his neck until it popped. “Promise. Lead the way, Healer Granger.”</p><p>“Trainee,” she corrected him, unable to remove the small smile from her face. “We’ll take one lap around the fourth floor and then we’ll get you back here so Healer Strout doesn’t send me a Howler for allowing you out of bed.”</p><p>They walked from the ward together, side by side, and Hermione ignored the way his arm brushed against hers every other step. As they passed a wall of portraits, several of the occupants commented on the familiar Malfoy hair and facial structure, some going so far as to shudder in their portraits or leave their frames completely. The way Draco's face fell tugged at her heartstrings; she knew how he’d changed over the last year, and it enraged her that he’d never gotten the chance to show that to the world before forgetting it happened at all.</p><p>Orbs of light zipped by them as they walked, owls fluttered overhead. Otherwise, the corridors were quiet as they strolled along. When they came to the door of a supply cupboard, Draco paused and ran his fingers down the wood. His hand wrapped around the handle and he pried it open, stepping inside.</p><p>“What’re you doing?” Hermione asked, stepping in after him. It smelled of herbs and magic, heady and dizzying in its potency. “Draco, we can’t be in here—it’s off limits to anyone except staff of the hospital.”</p><p>He turned towards her and stepped into her space. “It’s a cupboard—there’s something about...cupboards. And you.” As if reaching for a memory he couldn’t quite grasp, Draco’s eyes were unfocused as he moved closer to her and shut the door of the cupboard with his hand beside Hermione’s head. “Have we…been <em> involved </em> in a cupboard? I think I remember…”</p><p>His voice faded away as he tried to capture the memory. With her back pressed against the door, Hermione placed both hands flat against its surface and held her breath. She didn’t want to tell him, but then, she wanted him to remember. Watching as his eyes flicked across her face, she drew her lip between her teeth and then squeezed her eyes shut.</p><p>Silence filled the dark cupboard, but if she focused Hermione swore she could hear his heart beating loudly against his chest. Or, perhaps it was her own heart racing at his proximity. She thought she might jump out of her skin when she felt his finger graze the side of her face.</p><p>“Granger,” he breathed, so close to her lips she could feel the pillowy softness of his lower lip against hers. “Tell me what I’m remembering is real and not a figment of my imagination.”</p><p>Hope raced through her veins, regardless of how hard she tried to temper it. “What do you remember?”</p><p>Draco crashed into her with such force that her head snapped back against the door. It didn’t stop the noise that ripped itself from her throat at the feel of his lips closing over hers, or the wet tip of his tongue slipping past the seam of her lips, or the way his fingers found the curve of her hip and curled around it and held her close. His breath hitched and it stirred something wild within her. Wrapping her fingers into the silky fine threads of hair at the nape of his neck, Hermione pressed her body into his and melted into his tight hold. Desire lanced through her, pooling deep in her belly and sending wet heat between her thighs.</p><p>“You like it when I grab your arse with both hands.” To prove it, he reached around and took two handfuls of her arse, hoisting her up and canting his hips into hers. “And you moan when I nibble right here on your neck.” So he did, scraping his teeth against the sensitive flesh just below her ear. “And when I—” Draco hissed as she tugged at his hair. “When I call you ‘witch’, you soak through your knickers.”</p><p>Hermione raked her hands over his scalp and delighted as Draco groaned “witch” like an exaltation against her throat. It was true, the endearment had the uncanny ability to turn her entire brain to mush. More than that, he <em> remembered </em>, and it was all Hermione could have asked for. She never wanted him to forget, and that scared the hell out of her.</p><p>Worse, she was in direct violation of the <em> Healer Code of Ethics</em>, and though she said as much to Draco, it didn’t stop them from having a proper shag against the door of the cupboard.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Memories were a fickle thing.</p><p>She practically skipped into the Janus Thickey Ward the next day, excited to see the progress Draco would have made overnight. Instead, what greeted her was a disheartening and familiar sneer on Draco's otherwise handsome face.</p><p>“I don’t understand,” Hermione whispered furiously to Healer Strout when they were out of earshot of an irritable Draco Malfoy. “He remembered me yesterday, our history, things that were so small and idiosyncratic—how could he just forget overnight?”</p><p>“As I’ve said, Trainee Granger,” Strout said with little patience and hands on her hips, “the hippocampus is a sensitive little bugger. Mister Malfoy’s memories can come and go; he may never fully remember everything, or he may only retain certain things for a small period of time. As it stands, there’s more damage today than there was when I left him yesterday. You’ll need to work with him again, perform diagnostics as he recalls memories, and perhaps try a Memory Potion to stimulate the hippocampus.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“Would you prefer me to assign another trainee to his case?” Healer Strout’s firm voice cut straight through Hermione’s arguments, brokering no room for discourse. “Given your relationship with the patient, I feel that it’s in his best interest to retain you. Do you agree?”</p><p>Chewing on the inside of her cheek, mostly to keep herself from spewing something unprofessional at her mentor, Hermione nodded and dropped her gaze to the floor between them. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll work with his memory this morning, try to gauge what he remembers of yesterday.”</p><p>“Very well.” The healer turned on her heel and exited the ward, leaving Hermione alone with Draco.</p><p>She approached him cautiously, summoning her parchment and enchanted quill, and doing her best to follow the same steps she’d followed before. Lifting her wand, she began to cast diagnostics over Draco until his fingers closed over her wrist.</p><p>“What are you doing, Granger?” A notch formed between his brows as his eyes opened, landing directly on her gaze.</p><p>“Do you know where you are?” she asked, adopting a clinical tone for fear that her voice would tremble.</p><p>“The infirmary. Madam Pomfrey just left for a potion—hurt myself at quidditch today.” Draco stretched out his body as if proving his statement. “Why are you here? Pity project, I suspect? Perfect marks aren’t enough for the Perfect Prissy Granger?”</p><p>Her breath catching, Hermione lowered her wand and examined the smokey, blue diagnostic over Draco’s head. She noted the changes on her parchment with quiet murmurs to her quill and then addressed Draco directly. “No. You’re in St. Mungo’s due to a brain injury—a curse on your memory. You don’t remember the past year or so of your life.”</p><p>A single, huffed laugh met her words, but it was soon followed by the familiar rant about Hermione pulling a prank and demanding she leave him alone. It took her an hour to calm him, and another hour to allow her to ask more questions relating to his memories.</p><p>“Can you silence Lockhart?” Draco asked after some time, as Lockhart began to sing in his bed, claiming that his many fans were eager to hear his most recent performance. “He’s a nightmare, honestly.”</p><p>“Wait until he asks if you’d like his autograph.” Hermione crossed her legs and leaned against the back of her chair, remembering how annoyed he’d been with Lockhart’s ego.</p><p>“He’s already done that twice,” Draco assured her, rolling his eyes as he settled back against his pillows. A smile played at the corner of his lips. “You still fancy him, don’t you? I remember in second year, all the girls were falling over themselves to talk to him.”</p><p>Hermione startled; it was the exact same conversation they’d had the day before. Tentatively, she responded, leaning forward. “It was only a crush.” She monitored his facial reactions for any sign that he remembered their previous conversation; there was no sign of recollection on his face, so she continued. “Besides, don’t think that the girls didn’t watch you boys fawn over the Beauxbaton girls in fourth year.”</p><p>“They <em> were </em> fit.” Draco smiled and just as he had the day before, gazed off to some far off place Hermione couldn’t see. It took her a moment to remember what came next, but then the memory flashed through her mind and she smacked him on the thigh with her hand. He caught it as she pulled away. “You were fit that year, too. At the Yule Ball, with that dress. I nearly hexed Krum that night.”</p><p>If this were to go the same way as the day before, they’d end up having sex in the supply cupboard. She really couldn’t do that—that was definitely against their code of ethics.</p><p>“I have to take your vitals now, okay?”</p><p>“Don’t really have much of a say, seeing as I’m the one in the bed.” He shrugged his shoulders and placed his hands behind his head, the perfect picture of ease, as she cast charms over him and recorded the numbers and observations. “So, you’re a healer now. That’s not what I would have expected for you.”</p><p>She forced a smile as she swept her wand over the length of him. “I’m a trainee, not a healer yet.”</p><p>“Still. I figured you’d become an Auror like Potter and Weasel.” Draco kicked one ankle over the other, the heat of his stare making it hard for her to concentrate on the spells she was performing. “Guess I’m the lucky sod today—with your brilliant mind, I’m sure you’ll figure this out and have me out of here in no time.”</p><p>Hermione didn’t have the heart to tell him she had no bloody idea how to fix him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>All of her days were bleeding together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every day, Hermione and Draco would find themselves in a compromising position, and she was sure that he’d remember it the following day. But, each morning she’d walk into the ward to find him sneering in her direction and absolutely certain he was in his last year of Hogwarts. Worse, she was no closer to figuring out the cure for his amnesia and Harry hadn’t been able to find the culprit behind it. It seemed that all was lost, and that Draco would be doomed to relive his final year at Hogwarts—never growing past the snarky, angry boy he’d been at the start of term.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a week after Draco had been admitted to the ward when Hermione thought they’d had a breakthrough. She walked in after a fitful night’s sleep to find him sitting up in bed watching the double doors as she entered. There was no sneer on his face, but rather a curious pull to his eyes and a slight tremor at the corners of his lips—nearly a smile but more reserved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look well today,” she said, approaching with her wand drawn to take his morning vitals. He sat still and allowed her to cast the diagnostics, eyes intently following her every move. “Can I ask you some questions while I work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded his head, a quick duck of the chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know where you are?” Prodding at the smoke that hovered above Draco’s head, Hermione dipped her gaze to his and then back again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s tone was clipped. “Looks like St. Mungo’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione beamed. It was a good sign, so good in fact that she ignored her spellwork in favor of sitting at his bedside in her usual chair. The diagnostics could wait; this was far too exciting. “And do you know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> you’re at St. Mungo’s?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His nostrils flared, chest rising and falling quickly as his eyes darted around her face. “I’ve had an accident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wetting her lips, trying not to let her face give anything away, Hermione tilted her head. “What type of accident did you have?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s voice dropped, heavy and uncertain. “Nervous breakdown, maybe? Stunner to the chest?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heart clenching, Hermoine breathed deeply and chewed on her bottom lip. “You were hit with some sort of curse; it’s affecting your memory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She watched the way his fists balled up at his sides, the fidgeting of his legs as he tried to rein in the anger he was obviously feeling. “Was it your precious Potter—is that why you’re here? Making sure I don’t die before you can cure me so that he’ll get off with a detention?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Harry had nothing to do with it.” He rolled his eyes, and Hermione sighed. “He brought you here, actually. He’s trying to find the person who did this so that he can bring them to justice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bring them to </span>
  <em>
    <span>justice</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” A scoff filled the space between them. “What’s the worst that’ll happen? Whoever did this will get detention and I’ll be stuck here with you. I know who gets the worse end of this deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t had a problem the last week being ‘stuck here with me’.” Hermione’s temper flared and her words were laced with venom; there was only so much of his snark she could take and after rubbish sleep and a week of failure, she’d had enough. “When you had your hand up my robes yesterday, for example. Or when we had sex in the supply cupboard. Or when you begged me to let you between my legs with your ton—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Granger!” Draco sprung from the bed, nearly knocking her over. Towering over her petite frame, his lips pulled back into a snarl. There was a heat in his eyes, a fiery shadow that threatened to consume her and sent her heart fluttering. His voice was but a whisper as he stepped even closer. “Lies. You’re lying to me. I’d remember…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting her chin and squaring her shoulders, Hermione matched his tone with furious tears in her eyes. “You wouldn’t remember. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. No matter what I try, no matter what I do, you always forget me, forget </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as she was about to take a step backward, Draco’s hand closed over her shoulders and he ducked his chin down so that he was eye level with her. “You’re serious.” His fingers tightened over her tense muscles as her chin wobbled, nodding because words wouldn’t come out. “We’ve…that’s impossible. You hate me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t,” she whimpered, wild curls falling over her face. “I haven’t hated you in a long time, Draco. It’s nineteen ninety nine—we finished Hogwarts months ago. And before we left, we…we were...something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something.” The word fell from his lips so softly, it was like a caress. “How did it happen—how did we…” He licked the corner of his lip. “How did my parents react to our...something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, we didn’t…that is to say, we weren’t…” Hermione searched for the words, but there was no proper way to say they hadn’t even been friends, let alone more. A nervous laugh bubbled up to her lips. “It was just...sex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grip of his fingers tightened further into the knots in her muscles. He blinked twice, drew a steady breath, and then offered a small, lopsided smile. “Right then. You and I fucked multiple times, told no one, and weren’t exclusive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt the color drain out of her face. “I…oh bugger, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> was exclusive and now, well I suppose I have no idea if </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were exclusive. I don’t suppose you remember if you’ve ever been tested for sexually transmitted infections and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop.” His hands traveled from her shoulders to either side of her neck, a throaty chuckle deep in his throat. “I was exclusive, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember?” Eyes round, excitement bubbling up in her stomach, Hermione began to move to grab her wand, but Draco held her in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember, but I know there wouldn’t have been anyone else.” Gaze dipping to her lips, Draco moved closer still. He closed his eyes, words leaving him in a strained whisper. “Fuck, I wish I could remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their lips were so close, barely enough room to fit a hair between them, when the doors to the ward burst open and the pair jumped apart. Healer Strout approached with loud, clicking heels and a tetchy, pinched face. Her voice carried through the ward, echoing off the walls and disturbing the other residents. Two figures followed closely behind, though they moved more slowly, more gracefully in her wake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Healer Strout stood beside Hermione and flourished her arm out in a sweeping gesture towards Draco. “As you can see, Mister Malfoy is </span>
  <em>
    <span>just fine</span>
  </em>
  <span> in our care, Lady Malfoy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s shoulders tensed and she sidestepped further away from Draco, dropping her eyes to the stone floor at her feet. She’d managed to avoid Draco’s friends and family until that moment. “Mrs. Malfoy,” she said quietly, cheeks painfully flushed as she bit into her lip. “Draco is doing well this afternoon. He’s less agitated than he’s been all week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know that I’d say that’s well for Draco,” a familiar voice said, a light laugh lacing his soft words. “This git is agitated on his best days. Perhaps he needs to be cursed again, see if that can return him back to his old, exasperating self.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione finally raised her eyes and they landed on the cool blue that were watching her closely. Theodore Nott’s hands were shoved in his pockets and he appeared far too amused with the sight in front of him. She let a small smile slip across her lips, but still refused to meet Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Lo, Granger.” Theo grinned; it crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Fancy seeing you here, of all the bedsides.”</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The hits just kept coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following Theo and Mrs. Malfoy’s arrival in the ward, Hermione was left alone in Draco and Theo’s company while Healer Strout ushered Mrs. Malfoy to her private office to discuss the care plan for her son. The silence stretched on and on with no end in sight. Theo’s eyes traveled between Hermione and Draco, who were intently avoiding eye contact with one another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if there were no tension whatsoever, Theo plopped himself down in Hermione’s usual seat, crossed his legs, and settled back with his arms across his chest. “So this is the most extreme way that anyone has tried to get out of attending a commemorative ball they were dreading.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite her nerves, Hermione chuckled. “Even if he’d done this on purpose, he wouldn’t remember it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still sounds convenient,” Theo said, turning his gaze slowly from Hermione to Draco’s narrowed eyes. “Your mother wants to announce a donation to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in your honor, and you go and get your memory removed. It’s a PR nightmare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you care about the marketing?” Draco asked, a slender, blond eyebrow raised over one eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo made a show of dusting his nails on his crisp, blue shirt. “If you’d bother to remember, you’d know that Blaise and I have a new start up, and your mother was kind enough to invest in our business.” Glancing to Hermione, he gestured vaguely at Draco. “He calls himself my best mate. Look at him trying to destroy my future in one selfish move.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s hardly what I’m—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to think,” Theo seemed to take pride in interrupting Draco, in what Hermione surmised was a regular occurrence between the two based on the way Draco’s mouth clamped shut and he rolled his eyes to the heavens. “All I’ve done since we left Hogwarts is intervene with his mother, ensuring her focus is on things like the finances and the Malfoy reputation. Least he could do is show up for the one event to which he was personally invited.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everyone was invited, though.” Hermione’s brows furrowed; she’d known Theo to be a bit of a character, always dramatic and drawing attention away from Draco when they were in a group of people at Hogwarts. Still, she couldn’t work out why he was giving Draco such a hard time when he was clearly cursed. “If it’s that big of a deal, you’ll simply have to release a statement explaining why Draco won’t be in attendance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo’s chin lifted as he stared at her, eyes surveying her closely as if he didn’t know what to make of her input. He pointed a finger in her direction and shook it once as a grin split his lips. “Brilliant. Any chance you’re looking for employment, Granger? We could use your brains in our organization.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shaking her head and taking a deep breath, Hermione conjured a second seat beside Theo and deposited herself into it. “Afraid not,” she told him, setting her sights on Draco who was looking vastly uncomfortable as his eyes darted between them. “A bit married to the idea of healing, and have a project to get on with. Of utmost importance for a commemorative ball, so I hear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too right.” Slapping his hands on top of his thighs, Theo addressed Draco again. “See, Draco. Granger here knows how to set her priorities.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco put his head in his hands and then raked them through his hair. “Merlin, I’ll never recover with the pair of you around to drive me mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rather than appearing properly admonished, Theo instead continued to smile as though nothing in the world could bother him. “You remember nothing of NEWT year then?” Draco shook his head, letting his hands fall to his sides again. “It’s a shame you don’t remember that lapdance Astoria put on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s eyes locked on Hermione, who felt her cheeks redden considerably. She tried to hide it, tried to will her face to return to its normal color, but there was nothing for it. Something roared inside of her at the thought of the petite blonde girl putting on a show for Draco, but it was none of her business, especially since they’d never said they were exclusive—even if Draco had subsequently claimed he’d not been seeing anyone else. Dropping her gaze from his, Hermione busied herself with straightening her robes and patting herself down for the enchanted quill she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> was hidden within an inner pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No recollection.” Draco’s deadpan tone tugged at her heart; despite the thought of Astoria Greengrass’s arse in his lap, Hermione wished he’d remember if only so that he’d recall their stolen moments, too. “For the best—never did fancy her. Too proper for my taste; she’s unwilling to have a little...</span>
  <em>
    <span>adventure</span>
  </em>
  <span>, if you know what I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head snapped up and she found Draco staring at her, the corners of his lips twitching. Heat clawed up her neck. Hermione tugged at the collar of her robes and she cleared her throat before uselessly attempting to fight off the ridiculous smile threatening to overtake her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I know what you mean alright.” Waggling his thick eyebrows, Theo nudged Hermione with his elbow. “Bet Granger likes an adventure, don’t you love? Eh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s literally the least adventurous person I’ve ever met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief rushed through Hermione, like a balm to a burn, as Harry’s voice interrupted the torrid trajectory of the conversation. A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she looked up to see Harry standing there. Ducking down, he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Hermione, how’d you get so lucky as to find yourself alone with these two?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strout must have thought I’d need an adventure,” Hermione said, earning a chuckle from Nott. But it was Draco that gave her pause as his eyes swept over her features and then to where Harry’s hand rested on her shoulder. “What’re you doing here, anyway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When someone who’s important to me sends me an owl, I answer.” Though he spoke to Hermione, his eyes drifted towards Theo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he didn’t want to speak in front of them, and was trying to give Hermione a hint. She stood quickly, avoiding Draco’s gaze at all costs, and asked if Harry would like to accompany her to lunch while Theo and Draco had a catch up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malfoy.” Harry ducked his chin and placed his hand at Hermione’s lower back. With pursed lips, he addressed Theo. There was a chill in his voice that hadn’t been there before. “Nott.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Harry led Hermione from the ward, she heard Theo’s voice follow them out into the corridor. “Harry, pleasure as always.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Thank Merlin for Harry Potter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hermione finally took a break from helping Draco through his memory recovery, she realized for the first time that she was shattered. To try so hard only to be set back to the beginning again and again had been draining. She was thankful when Harry had showed up at the hospital and she had a chance to have lunch, if only so that she could catch her breath and get her mind in order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry grabbed them each a tray packed with sandwiches and horrible sugary fruit drinks that she wouldn’t touch if her life depended on it. She thanked him anyway and watched as he devoured all of the food and offered her bites between his. Refusing, she simply picked at her sandwich until Harry had finished eating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, we still don’t know who did this to Malfoy.” Harry crumpled his napkin and tossed it over the crumbs on his tray. “It’s not Zacharias Smith, though. Cornered him outside the training room and he offered his wand for evaluation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione scoffed, pushing her tray away and folding her arms over her chest. “Well then, can’t everyone submit their wands for evaluation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately, no.” Grimacing, Harry shook his head and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Everyone’s a bit sensitive about the reach of the Ministry after...everything. I requested from Kingsley to mandate a wand eval, but he had a bloody bullet-point list to refute every argument I made.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, have you tried explaining that Draco was making amends and this spell will directly conflict with the Wizengamot’s orders regarding his reparations to the—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Harry chuckled awkwardly and pushed the fringe off his forehead, messing it up even more than normal. She wanted to reach out and fix it, but refrained—only just. “Look, I’m still investigating, and I have some help from a reliable source. We’ll figure this out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What reliable source?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry’s cheeks turned a brilliant shade of red and he looked anywhere but her. “It’s not important. Let’s say: someone with a vested interest in Draco’s recovery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting a single brow, Hermione flicked her eyes over Harry’s still-red face. “It’s Theo Nott, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not.” She pinned him with a glare and Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. “Alright. It is. But don’t say anything. He’s an anonymous source.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there nothing that Theo doesn’t have his hands in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If possible, Harry’s face burned brighter. “Definitely not.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some days were better than others.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few mornings after seeing his best friend and mother, Draco remembered things about his days in hospital more clearly. Hermione waltzed through the double doors, prepared for the typical volley of sarcasm between them, but instead was greeted with a lifted chin and a “Morning, Granger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scurried over to him and immediately began to cast her diagnostic in a flurry of movements over his head. “What do you remember? Are you in any pain? Where are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite her rush of questions, Draco answered each one slowly, in a steady rhythm. “I’m at St. Mungo’s due to a memory curse. There’s no pain. And—” He wrapped his fingers around Hermione’s wrist and yanked her forward so that she had no choice but to perch herself on the edge of his bed. She yipped, eyes widening in surprise. “I remember how jealous you were when Theo mentioned Astoria Greengrass giving me a lapdance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> jealous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It did nothing to dissuade him, though. A smirk toyed with the edge of his lips, his clear grey eyes danced in a way that told Hermione he was pleased. “You were jealous,” he whispered, drawing himself further into a sitting position so that his face was mere inches from hers. “But there’s no need, Granger. I also remember that delicious thing you do with your fingers when you’re—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco.” Swatting his chest, she forced away the grin threatening to explode across her face. “This is my place of employment, I can’t—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can, and you have,” he argued playfully, tracing his fingers along the skin of her arm until he reached her neck, and finally anchored them in her unruly hair. “We could now. Cast a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Muffliato</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you could be louder than you were in that cupboard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared at him, body and mind at war. There he was, lying on a hospital bed with a curse affecting his memories, but he was still chatting her up as if he were perfectly healthy. It felt as if she would be taking advantage, but he seemed able and willing to give consent; he remembered what they’d done only days before. But still…part of her couldn’t stop thinking what would happen if she walked into the ward tomorrow and he’d forgotten again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m your healer—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trainee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re under my care,” she clarified, aware of the sliver of space that still separated them. “I can’t in good conscience take advantage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Releasing a throaty chuckle, Draco leveraged his hold in the roots of her hair to tilt her chin up, staring intently at her. “Oh, Trainee Granger, I was mistaken before.” Another smirk, the smarmy git. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> in pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what if I am, and you ignore it?” Draco was enjoying teasing her; she could see it reflected in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Balling her hands into tiny fists against his bed, Hermione sighed. “And where, pray tell, is this pain, Draco?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course she knew he was going to say something lewd, like in his pants.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he surprised her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tapping a finger against his soft bottom lip, he whispered, “Right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A beat passed between them in utter silence. Hermione flicked her eyes to his and the raw desire she found there crumbled whatever resolve remained. Leaning forward, she gently touched her lips to his. Before she could pull away, Draco’s hand in her hair tightened its hold and he crushed his lips against hers with a light growl sending vibrations through her body. He slipped his tongue through her lips and angled her head to the side as he deepened their kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d always been a brilliant kisser.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Attentive to the sounds and breaths she made, Draco used her reactions to his advantage and had her pressed against the mattress as she melted into the way his tongue stroked hers. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the knowledge they were on display at her place of work, and only screened by a curtain around the bed, kept her on edge. Draco didn’t seem to care, though, as he planted his hands on either side of her head and ground his growing erection against her robed thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth left her breathless as he trailed his lips along her jaw and to her throat, where he nipped the flushed skin and laved it with his tongue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Draco, we shouldn’t—not here,” she said, though her hands gripped his shoulders harder as he sucked her skin; she’d have a bruise there tomorrow. He always liked to mark her. Secretly, she liked it, too. “Strout could walk in any time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> could walk in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never stopped you before.” His hot breath against her wet throat sent chills skittering down her spine. Teeth scraped against her sensitive skin as one of his hands cupped her clothed breast. “As a matter of fact, I think you came harder when worried we’d get caught in those alcoves.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was true. A hitched breath stuttered her thoughts and Hermione pushed up on Draco’s shoulder, forcing him to stop unfastening her robes. “Draco!” He groaned in response, hand still massaging her breast. “You remember last year!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Flashes of memories flitted through her mind: hiked upon Draco’s hips as he pressed her firmly against a wooden door, her leg hitched over his shoulder while she gazed down at Draco’s face between her thighs, the longing looks they’d share across the Great Hall and the way he’d slip his tongue over his fork when she knew he was watching, the dirty little notes he’d pass her in class when they thought no one was looking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The corner of his lip twitched, and Hermione positively beamed at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a shame I ever forgot,” he said, claiming her mouth and cutting off any excitement that would have left her lips. Kissing her hard, his fingers made quick work of the buttons on her robe and slid it aside to reveal more layers. “Fucking layers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gripped her shirt at the collar and ripped it down, popping the buttons off in all directions, and then pulled the cup of her bra down. He eyed her exposed breast for only a brief second before taking her nipple in his mouth and flicking his tongue over it. Hermione canted her hips, jerking them up against him, and elicited a delicious moan from the back of his throat. The sound vibrated against her breast, and coupled with the way his teeth snagged on her nipple, sent warm tingles to her belly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A familiar, robotic voice tore Hermione out of her haze of pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Trainee Granger, you have an owl at the front desk. Trainee Granger, you have an owl at the front desk.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bollocks,” she whispered furiously, pushing her palms into his chest. Draco lifted himself so that she could scurry out from underneath him. Tightening her robe around her body and pulling her wand out, she began to reattach the buttons that had flown off. A prickling sensation caused the hairs at the nape of her neck to rise; she could feel Draco’s eyes on her as she darted around the small space near his bed trying to find all the buttons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t finished, Granger,” Draco said, resting back against his pillows with his hands clasped behind his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back.” Flushed and unsatisfied, Hermione zipped from the ward and headed to the front desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t return to his room until after he’d fallen asleep, and found peace sitting at Draco’s bedside in silence. Unfurling the little bit of parchment for the hundredth time, Hermione read the words scrawled out in Harry’s messy script.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All wands have been submitted for evaluation.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Relief flooded her, though as she watched Draco’s eyelids flutter, she wondered if they would really need to know the spell that had caused the damage. He was doing so well today, and perhaps it wasn’t as heinous as Healer Strout had suspected. Maybe all he needed was time. She stuffed the missive in her pocket and leaned forward, running her fingers through Draco’s soft hair, pushing it away from his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please remember, Draco,” she whispered, allowing hope to settle in her bones for the first time in days. “Just…please don’t forget again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as Hermione continued stroking his hair and pleading with him to continue recovering. She begged, closing her eyes and asking every deity in existence to help him through this. Resting her head on the bed beside his hand, Hermione let her eyes droop closed and didn’t even realize she’d fallen asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Draco’s tired, thick voice roused her from sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Popping her head up from the bed, she met his gaze and smiled, stifling a yawn. “Sorry, I must have dozed off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way he looked at her lanced through her heart. No familiarity. No kindness. Just that heart wrenching sneer and tight, reserved eyes. “Do you make a habit of sneaking into my dorm and falling asleep next to my bed? Because I have to say, Granger, this is peculiar even for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears sprang unwittingly to her eyes. “You’ve forgotten again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t even wait for him to respond before leaving him—just turned from the ward and left without another word.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hermione’s stomach sat in her throat all through the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She dreaded her shift at St. Mungo’s the next day, but dragged herself through the motions and stood outside the double doors of the ward for five minutes, trying to talk herself into walking through them. Before she could make up her mind, the doors swung open and she came face to face with Theo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mooorning, Granger.” His sing-song voice was almost as ridiculous as the massive smirk on his face. Holding out his hand, something small and black sat between his fingers. “Think this belongs to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione plucked the little black circle from his fingers and brought it eye level to examine it. Heat flooded her cheeks as she realized it was a button from the shirt she’d worn under her robes the day before. Snapping her gaze to his, she found a dancing gleam in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did you get this?” she asked, quick and breathless, shoving the button into her robe pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo merely grinned. “If you don’t want anyone to know about your torrid affair with a patient, perhaps don’t leave articles of clothing where anyone with two eyes can find them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thousand words were at the tip of her tongue; all laced with some level of defense, ignorance, and wit. Instead, she decided on silent protest. Shoving past him, Hermione approached Draco’s bedside, aware that Theo was following her, unsure of which Draco would greet her. He was awake, hair falling into his eyes and dark blond stubble lining his jaw. His face gave away nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” she greeted him tentatively, brandishing her wand to begin her daily diagnostics. “Do you know where you are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A huffed laugh passed between them. “Hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pleased, but not altogether convinced he was aware of his current predicament, Hermione pressed further. “And do you know why you’re here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This twat,” Draco shoved his thumb in Theo’s direction, “says that I was struck with a memory curse because I was a pompous, pretentious prat at Auror Academy.” Lips pinched, he glared over Hermione’s shoulder where she assumed Theo stood. “This is clearly an elaborate joke, as I have no intention of becoming an Auror after NEWTs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smokey diagnostic over Draco’s head revealed far less blue; fewer memories in the hippocampus than she’d seen since he arrived. Squaring her shoulders, Hermione sucked in a long, deep breath, and silently counted to five before responding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, Healer Strout will want to know of your progress, as I’m sure you’d like to return back to school to carry on with NEWT year.” Each word that left her lips was heavy and forced, but she couldn’t bring herself to go through another morning trying to convince Draco of who he’d grown to become, especially not with Theo present. “I’ll alert her to the changes this morning—Nott, you’ll monitor Draco until we return?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo tilted his head, eyeing Hermione shrewdly as she pocketed her wand. “Ooookay.” Pulling the chair next to Draco’s bed towards himself, Theo plunked his body into it and waved Hermione away with a vague gesture of his hand. “You’re not as fun today as you were before. Later, Granger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione stared at the back of his head for a solid minute, holding her tongue once again before deciding it wasn’t worth it. She flicked her gaze to Draco and found him staring at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Granger,” he muttered, lips barely moving. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Offering him a terse nod, Hermione strode from the ward as quick as her feet would carry her and tried desperately to ignore the pang in her chest. At the rate they were going, and without a cure, Draco would lose far more than just his memories from the last year at Hogwarts.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything changed with one owl.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The spell is malicious. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Evanesce Animus. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Zacharias Smith in custody. The bastard has a shrine to you in his flat. Really fucking creepy. Counterspell sent to Mungo’s. Lunch? - Harry</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione fidgeted in the canteen with a half-picked apart sandwich while Harry inhaled his food as if he’d never eaten before. “He submitted his wand for eval, but it was his old Hogwarts wand. Still held his magical signature, none of the questionable spellwork.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How in Merlin’s name did you find out it wasn’t his current wand?” Hermione dropped the pretense she was eating and turned fully towards Harry, whose ears were so red she thought he might have a fever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was Theo, actually.” Wiping at his mouth with his sleeve, Harry then pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and grinned as if he couldn’t help himself. “Was brilliant, really. He showed up at training one afternoon, claiming it was so he could have a ground-level view of the upcoming Aurors to give a bit of fluff to his marketing for the commemorative ball. And by the end of the afternoon, he’d spotted Smith’s wand.” With a laugh, he shook his head. “Ridiculous, really. A room full of future Aurors and it was a bloody punter who figured it out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An invested punter, though,” Hermione said fondly, wondering when it was she’d last seen such a sincere smile on her best friend’s face. “Theo and Draco are more like brothers than friends; a bit like us—practically related.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry hummed his agreement, nodding his head. “So, has Healer Strout administered the countercurse?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dropping her eyes to the demolished sandwich on her tray, Hermione chewed on the inside of her lip and shook her head. “Yes, but I couldn’t bear to be in the ward. What if it doesn’t work, or he forgets again? That curse has been eating at him; we might not be able to fully retrieve what he’s lost and forming new memories could be…Merlin, I’m going to be sacked from the program.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t be sacked.” Harry laughed, but Hermione sighed. “It’s harder when it’s someone you know—someone you’re maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>fond</span>
  </em>
  <span> of?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not—” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Trainee Granger to Healer Strout’s office. Trainee Granger to Healer Strout’s office.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t want to cry, but tears welled up anyway. Turning from Harry and dabbing the corners of her eyes, Hermione sniffed and tried to steady her rapid breaths. As she rose from her seat, Harry grabbed her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were invested in Malfoy’s recovery.” The tone wasn’t accusatory, but he did flick his gaze between her eyes with a hefty amount of curiosity. “I’m sure it had everything to do with the natural fondness between healer and patient, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Her jaw clenched as she ducked her chin in agreement. “That, precisely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It did, indeed, turn out to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> precisely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was updated on Malfoy's status and informed of his plan of care until discharge. Healer Strout was confident he remembered at least eighty percent of his last school year. A sea of conflicting emotions assailed her, and it was too much to bear knowing she would have to face Draco. To see what he would remember...or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then to her utter amazement, Healer Strout informed her she was to have the next several days off, stating the dark bags under Hermione's eyes hadn't gone unnoticed. She was not to report back to St. Mungo's until after the commemorative ball, and that was a direct order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sagging with a confusing cocktail of relief and shame, Hermione went to gather her things before escaping to the safety of home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gryffindor my arse," she muttered to herself as she climbed under her duvet and slept for a solid twelve hours.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first annual commemorative ball was surprisingly beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Theo, as it turned out, had a keen eye for decor, and had planned such an epic event even Rita Skeeter had no negative comments as she strode through the crowd seeking statements from the attendees. Everyone must have been put off by the lurid pink cocktail robes she wore for the event. Horrid woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione managed to avoid that particular pest throughout the evening, much to Harry’s amusement. He kept asking her questions about Draco, but she’d simply avert her eyes and redirect the conversation towards how perfectly Theo had done with the details of the ball. The millisecond she mentioned how handsome Theo looked in his fitted tux, Harry suddenly found something far more interesting to discuss than Draco Malfoy’s total recovery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you don’t want to dance?” Harry asked, standing up from their table. He fiddled with the sapphire-colored satin tablecloth as his eyes drifted around the room. She’d have to be entirely unobservant not to see where his gaze lingered. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you here all alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, Harry. Go on. I’ll be leaving as soon as it’s appropriate to do so.” Shooing him away with a wave of her hand, Hermione chuckled as a little smile curled his lips. “And for Merlin’s sake, ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> to dance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whether he did or not, Hermione wasn’t able to see because just after Harry left her, a tall and lean figure in a tailored, black suit approached and blocked her view. She grabbed the long-stemmed wine glass she’d been sipping from all night and lifted it to her lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Granger.” Draco towered over her, a smirk tugging at his lips as she swallowed deep pulls from her glass. “Last time I saw you drink like that, we ended up shagging on a balcony in Paris.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wine slipped down the wrong side of her throat. Coughing and tearing up from the burn, Hermione struggled to catch her breath as Draco chuckled. He plucked the wine glass from her hand and deposited it on the table, then sat down in the nearest seat with his arm resting on the back of her chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, there’s a good chat-up line in here somewhere about me taking your breath away.” Draco rested a hand between her shoulder blades and lightly thumped on her back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it was painful, Hermione laughed; practically bloody snorted into her hand. “Don’t.” She coughed again, face beetroot red. “Please don’t attempt a cheesy chat-up line.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That impossible smirk was back; Hermione could see it even through the stinging tears in her eyes. With a shrug, he leaned back in his chair. “Your loss, I’m afraid. It would have been a good one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hermione was certain he was telling the truth and he was itching to elaborate. Turning towards him, she fixed him with her best serious expression—pinched brows and all. “Go on then. Impress me with your flirting prowess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat up in a flash, wound his hand under her seat and yanked her chair next to his. There was no space between them; thighs, hips, and shoulders touching. Then he placed his arm around her waist and pulled her in even closer. His fingers splayed over her hip. Goosebumps broke out along her arms as his warm breath blew against the shell of her ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That tone—Merlin, how could I ever have forgotten how easy it is for you to drive me mad?” A throaty chuckle punctuated his words, but Hermione could focus on little outside of the heat coursing through her. “You reminded me, though, didn’t you Granger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing around a dry patch in her throat, Hermione nodded. “I tried. It was too hard to walk away. I shouldn’t have...it was inappropriate of me to exploit our past, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying to flirt here, Granger. That’s difficult to do when you’re apologizing at the same time. Give me time and I’ll have you breathless again.” Draco’s teeth snagged on her earlobe and he laughed when she jolted at the feel of it. “Will you dance with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think that’s—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco stood, and it was the first time she really allowed herself to see him. He was so different to the ragged mess she’d watched lie in hospital day in and day out. Clean shaven, trimmed hair, and pristine robes, Draco offered his hand to her with a gleam in his eye that clearly said he wasn’t taking no for an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You still wear your signet ring,” she commented, rather than rejecting him outright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes rolling to the ceiling, he sighed. “I’m still a Malfoy. Dance with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her stare was trained on his ring, the way the dim golden light around them reflected off the emerald stone at its center. “I can’t. Not after everything, not after the curse. I can’t keep saying goodbye to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So then don’t say goodbye to me.” Grabbing her hand and ignoring her protests, Draco dragged her to the massive dance floor. After he placed their hands in the proper places, he pulled her close. “I shouldn’t have let you go after Hogwarts. This was still new and I didn’t know what I wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She arched a brow, skeptical. “But now you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.” Draco rested a hand on her cheek. His eyes darkened as he moistened his lips with a flick of his tongue. “Every time my memories came back, it was because of you. I’ve tried to be without you, Granger. But all my roads lead to you.” Draco caressed her cheek with his thumb. “After everything, I just can’t turn and walk away from you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And your obligations?” she whispered against his lips, allowing her eyes to flutter before closing in anticipation of the kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bollocks to them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Draco’s lips finally met hers and she sighed into the kiss, tightening her hold around his neck. Maybe they could make it work after all. Maybe everything they’d overcome was meant to bring them together in the end. Or maybe, all they had ever needed was proof that they were worth fighting for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If they’d overcome a war, NEWTs, long distance, and a memory curse, then perhaps, just maybe, they could overcome the rest of it, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bollocks to their obligations, indeed.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Endless thanks to mcal and Lunamionny for the vast amount of encouragement it took for me to write and submit this story.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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